Zero protocol: Red, The code ascendant

The forest didn't sleep.

Even after sunset, its breath pulsed in the chirps, rustles, and distant howls. Lian Xue sat under the twisted roots of an old spirit tree, cold mud pressed against her back, breathing low. Her sleeve was soaked in blood—her blood. The cut along her ribs hadn't closed.

> "This body can't take much more," she muttered, scanning her surroundings through the drone feed linked to her neural thread.

Ten meters ahead, six silhouettes gathered around a flickering campfire. Mercenaries. Real ones this time. She wasn't dealing with arrogant bandits or drunk cultivator brats.

These men were experienced.

Their weapons gleamed with spirit runes. Their eyes glowed faintly with qi vision. And one of them had a beast's paw stitched to his shoulder—a known artifact that gave its user night-hunting instincts.

> "At least two late-stage Foundation cultivators," she calculated. "Their formation's tight. No obvious entry point."

She had no qi. No cultivated strength.

Only her custom drones—scavenged, handmade, and powered by repurposed mineral cores stolen from sect trash heaps. And her god-metal weapon: still rough, still limited to basic reshaping, currently set as a short sword.

It wasn't enough.

But she didn't plan to beat them in a fair fight.

She just had to make them lose.

---

It started with sound.

The lowest drone in her swarm emitted a near-subsonic hum—just enough to trigger a pack of hornbeak squirrels. They screeched and bolted through the underbrush, triggering a reactive rune barrier around the camp.

One of the mercs laughed.

> "Animals again?"

Another stood up to inspect the perimeter. That was the opening.

Lian Xue moved.

She didn't run. She crawled, one limb at a time, using foliage to muffle every motion. When she reached a jagged root system, she slid into a crack barely wide enough for her chest. From here, she had a clear angle on the man checking the tree line.

> "Soft step, overconfident. Weapon unsheathed. Relying on his spiritual sense too much."

She flicked a switch. A dart launched from her wrist rig.

It didn't kill him.

But it hit just above the kidney, injecting a nerve disruptor she'd synthesized from venom glands taken from low-grade forest beasts.

He dropped, convulsing.

The other mercs heard the crash.

> "Fan out!" one of them shouted.

> "Don't lose formation—if it's a beast trap again—"

But the tone was different now. Sharper. Less amused.

She struck again when one moved to retrieve the fallen man. This time with a wire—looped around his ankle, then yanked hard from the branch above. He screamed as the metal tightened and flipped him into the air. His head cracked against a root.

Two down.

Then the real threat stepped forward.

The leader.

Heavy armor. One eye replaced with a spirit sensor. Rank: unknown, but his movement screamed dangerous.

> "You're smart," he said aloud. "But you don't have qi. I can smell it."

His voice wasn't taunting. It was clinical. Like someone preparing to dissect a puzzle.

Lian Xue didn't answer. She had already moved again—her wounded side screaming with each breath.

She dove into a crevice, barely avoiding a blast of condensed spirit fire that turned the surrounding foliage into charcoal. The heat scorched her robe. Her vision blurred.

> "I can't win this."

Even if she had ten more traps, it wouldn't be enough. She was too slow. The others were spreading out, sealing escape routes. The drones were almost out of power.

Then came the second fire blast.

It missed—but it boxed her in.

She had to fight.

And she had nothing left but steel and thought.

---

When the mercenary lunged into the clearing, blade first, she met him head-on—but not with strength.

She baited.

Her sword, forged from god-metal, absorbed the first blow without cracking—but it rang in her arm like thunder. She staggered back, let her knee buckle.

> "She's falling!" he shouted.

He didn't notice the dirt under his boot shift slightly.

Didn't notice that she had planted a disc there six minutes ago.

The concussive rune detonated.

Not a killing blast—she didn't have that kind of firepower yet. But it was enough to knock him back, crack his ribs, and rattle his core.

She didn't let him breathe.

Lian Xue leapt forward, blade twisting mid-air into a serrated short-spear.

One jab. Right under his armpit, bypassing the armor's weak seam.

He gurgled.

And collapsed.

> "Threat neutralized," she muttered, collapsing next to him. "But… I'm not okay."

Her hands were trembling.

Not from fear—from blood loss, from exhaustion, from pain.

She hadn't used supernatural power to win.

She had used math, tools, and timing.

And she'd barely survived.

She lay there in the cold dirt, chest heaving. Around her, the last mercenaries scattered. They'd seen enough. Thought she was cursed. Or insane.

Or both.

---

Later, when the sun began to rise, she found herself staring at her hand.

It was shaking.

Not from trauma—just the weight of surviving again.

Then she felt it.

A pulse in her core.

A signal from the origin fragment.

No words. Just… acknowledgment.

> [Power Level: 2 Reached.] [New Ability Unlocked: Reflex Boost (Low Tier)]

It wasn't dramatic. Just a soft recalibration in her nervous system. A 17% increase in reaction time. Slight improvements in muscle contraction. Enough to give her a small edge.

Enough to mean something.

She sat upright and let the blood dry on her skin. Her face remained expressionless.

But inside?

Inside, the girl named Lian Xue understood something.

She was still weak.

Still hunted.

But no longer helpless.